


All Right

by nyargles



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyargles/pseuds/nyargles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's on the verge of a breakdown just after his coronation and Merlin needs to snap him out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Right

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written when S3 was airing and posted [on LJ](http://nyargles.livejournal.com/17255.html)

Merlin whisked away the last farmer of the day for the audience with that charming, friendly smiling way of his. Arthur waited until he, and the rest of The Court, had trooped out of the door before slouching down in his throne, face visibly sagging. He passed a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes, and it was as if the dark circles were suddenly more visible. "Come on," Merlin said gently, taking him by the arm and helping him down as if he wasn't capable of doing it by himself. 

When Merlin had first done this in public, The Court had muttered, shocked that a servant would be manhandling the King so. Merlin had ignored them all, seeing as he'd been doing ridiculous things in front of them for years what with his lack of court knowledge and decorum, and Arthur had responded by throwing The Court out. Arthur cleared his throat, "I'm not injured, Merlin." He didn't really make a move to stop Merlin from mothering him though.

When they got back to Arthur's chambers, Arthur's new manservant stood there, having dutifully hauled a bath up and prepared some light food for him. The boy, for he was barely more than a boy, finished pressing Arthur's clothes flat and then scuttled out of the room as Merlin smiled. He was more like Merlin's assistant servant than Arthur's actual manservant; Merlin just liked to delegate out all the tasks that he had hated, the boy and his family considered it a great honour and he got paid well. It worked out great for everyone, especially Arthur, who didn't trust anyone apart from Merlin to sort his life out exactly as he preferred it.

Arthur's hands were trembling slightly as he unclasped his formal cloak and Merlin hurriedly patted his hands away. "I'm supposed to be undressing you, you know," he admonished. Given nothing to do for himself, Arthur looked in the mirror. He had aged a decade in the last month, and he studied his reflection. His mouth was a little grimmer, his eyes a little harder. He had begot some white hairs too from the burden, even though Merlin just insisted that they were very light blond. Merlin noticed, but didn't say anything. He just stepped sideways so that his body blocked Arthur's view of the mirror.

"Into the bath with you," Merlin pushed Arthur as if he was a small child, not at all fazed by the heavy silence. Arthur was always silent after audiences, partially because the cases, often about Lords abusing their peasants, always depressed and upset him and partially because he preferred to take the time to reflect on them, consider the humanity that would be affected by laws he passed. It had been especially hard after the Beltane feast, when Arthur had seen the ledgers and been horrified at how much money and grain had been poured into the castle's feast unnecessarily.

It took almost ten minutes for Arthur to properly relax into the bath, so it was a good thing that Merlin could keep the temperature constantly hot. He had soaped Arthur down at the beginning, and the last soap suds were starting to fade. Merlin was kneeling behind Arthur instead, just softly massaging his shoulders. Merlin could tell that Arthur was on the verge of a breakdown.

Uther wasn't even dead yet, but the last time he had been lucid, he had formally signed a statement handing over all power to Arthur, and feebly placed his own crown on Arthur's head. It had taken four tries for him to manage to lift the formal crown. There had been as few present as Arthur had managed whilst managing to have enough witnesses; he didn't like the court to be able to see their King so vulnerable. 

The eminent breakdown wasn't because Arthur was a bad king though. In fact, he was a very good king. He was particularly conscientious about hearing the views of the many, and tried his best to please everyone. The problem was that he was trying to do it all himself. 

Staring at his King's pruny hands, Merlin bundled him up out of the bath and into soft clothes, gently fluffing his hair dry as he tucked a large blanket around Arthur not for the warmth but for the comfort, and pushed the plate of food towards him. 

The gradual change back to the normal Arthur came eventually, colour rising in his cheeks as he ate. Merlin sat opposite him and fished a sausage from his plate, savouring it as he nibbled. "So, I've been thinking," he started. Arthur gave him a suspicious glance, as if he hadn't known Merlin had been even capable of doing that. "I've been thinking that you need to start delegating things. Just a bit, you know, to people you trust to do that particular job well." Arthur looked at him as if he was going mad.

"In Ealdor, which, I know is a _lot_ smaller than Camelot –" Arthur snorted, "- if any disputes arise, everyone goes to see the village elders. There are about six of them, and they just decide what to do between themselves. It's much quicker than going to the local Lord, and the elders are generally more interested in the villagers' daily lives – not," Merlin added, "that I'm saying that you're not interested in your people's lives because if anything, you're too interested for your own good." Arthur looked dubious that any of this would work, so Merlin sighed. He was just going to have to explain these things to Arthur in terms he would understand.

Licking his fingers of the greasy fat, Merlin wondered how best to do that. "Say, you've got Lancelot. He's really good at fighting. So make him teach the other knights swordwork and that'll help him think about his own technique too. And then you don't have to. And get, say, Leon and Gawain to take over audiences. If they don't agree, only _then_ does the case go through to you. That sort of thing. You don't give each person too much power, and everyone gets to feel important, too."

Arthur rolled the unfamiliar idea around in his mind. Uther had been careful with his power, barely trusting anyone with any apart from Arthur. In turn, that meant that as Crown Prince, Arthur had been used to juggling all sorts of different burdens from a young age. Delegating wasn't something he was very good at. He pressed his lips together. "I'll think about it," he said, and that was as good as a promise from Arthur. Merlin beamed.

"Maybe I'll make you in charge of something," Arthur quirked a grin. 

Merlin looked thoroughly startled, fringe falling into his eyes, and pulled a face. "You'd never make me in charge of anything; I'd single-handedly collapse the whole kingdom or something." 

Standing up, Arthur extended a hand to Merlin, who slipped his slimmer hand in and let his King tug him to the large reclining chair. "You're in charge of me," murmured Arthur as he sank down into the soft chair, Merlin sprawling across his lap. Chuckling, Merlin threaded his fingers through Arthur's mostly-dry hair and leaned down, chasing away the last thought of Arthur's pressures away as he pressed his lips to Arthur's.

***

Over the next month or so, even more changes were made to Camelot's royal court. Not just laws for the people, but the infrastructural changes that Merlin had suggested. Arthur secretly thought that Merlin thought so little that when he did, his brain made up for the lost time by churning out small doses of brilliancy. Lancelot had indeed looked particularly honoured when he drew him aside and asked him to formulate the knights' training from now on. Leon had looked somewhat put out until he and Geraint were told that as Arthur's most compassionate and considering of his knights, he wished them to look after the audiences. And then _Gareth_ had seemed a little upset, but it had been all right, because Arthur told him that he could lead the evening patrols.

It was hard work satisfying everyone, but running through all the changes he had started implementing, he was seeing that it really did work. Everyone asked to help felt honoured that they had been asked, and he had been very careful to match everyone to a task they were suited at. However, it wasn't until Merlin suggested a trip away that it all really came to fruition. 

Merlin had noticed that whilst Arthur _was_ delegating, he really wasn't very good at it. He'd train with the knights, throwing Lancelot off just by being there; Lancelot kept trying to defer to him. He'd still sit in assembly, and Geraint visibly glanced at Arthur for approval every time he made a decision. Gareth gave him a detailed report every day on the evening patrol even when _nothing had happened_ , despite Arthur telling him repeatedly that he trusted Gareth's ability to deal with anything that happened bar a kingdom-wide disaster. He was less distressed by his responsibilities, but equally as stressed over them.

"I can't go on a hunting trip, Merlin, I have to run a kingdom!" Arthur looked across the bed at him as if he was delusional. 

Unfortunately, Merlin was burrowed right under the covers as he was wont to do when in Arthur's bed, and couldn't see the look, so it was a bit of a waste. "You don't have to run a kingdom; that was the point of making everyone else run bits of your kingdom for you!" Merlin protested, voice muffled under the three duvets. "They're not children, who need mother to hold their hands through everything, never mind the fact that you would be a terrible mother. You said it yourself yesterday, everyone's doing a great job."

"Yes, but-" spluttered Arthur, "What if they _need_ me?!"

Merlin finally gave up, and wormed out of his little cocoon of blankets, shimmying over and cuddling up to Arthur. "Arthur," he said very seriously, as he looked into his lover's eyes, "We're going hunting in the woods _right next to the castle_. We'll be less than half a day's ride away."

There was very little that Arthur could think to say to that, although his stomach still roiled uncomfortably at the thought of leaving everyone to have at their responsibilities all by themselves. Instead, he picked at something else instead. "We?"

"I'm going with you, of course," Merlin smiled, curling his arm around Arthur's neck. Arthur tucked his own arm around Merlin's waist without even thinking about it. This trip would be a great way to help Arthur relax, Merlin just _knew_ it. Arthur hadn't gone hunting at all since he had become King, and it was one of his favourite pastimes. The additional benefit of helping him detach himself from the stress of being King and helping him to see that he had many great men willing and capable of helping him to run Camelot were great reasons too.

***

"And remember that legislation on the farming rights of free men, and-"

"ARTHUR!" Merlin bellowed from atop his horse. The poor creature, now thoroughly used to Merlin's idiosyncrasies, merely flicked one ear placidly. The collective court gasped in audible shock at the King's manservant being a disrespectful shit again. " _We're_ ready to go and _they're_ bloody ready to be rid of you for a few days." Arthur scowled at him. " _Mother_ ," Merlin added for good measure, and that was _it_ , Arthur was smacking the roll of legislation parchment onto Leon's chest and running for his horse.

Once Arthur had dressed Merlin down for being said disrespectful shit, and Merlin had shrugged it off with a laugh, they fell into soft silence. There was something about the woods in May that were special. True, they were a bit damp and soggy and Merlin reminded himself that he would have to line the tent with waterproofs, but the smell of the leaves lingering in the damp air, the smell of the freshly trampled mud seemed to hum with the very essence of life, and feed the soul, or certainly some part of Arthur that had needed feeding at least.

As they rode at an easy pace through the woods, Arthur's face seemed to smooth out. Though he was just as tired, just as concerned about his kingdom, the pressures of them all didn't seem so terribly heavy. Perhaps what Merlin tended to say all along was true: it would be all right. It would just all be all right.

Pitching up camp, Arthur ruffled Merlin's hair, and left him to finish up the camp as he went off to hunt. He preferred to hunt alone – over the years, Merlin's skills had not improved, except as a wild and flailing beater. He crouched low through the undergrowth, searching for signs of movement. He focussed on the single task in front of him, and it was refreshing not to have a million things pounding away on the door that he had shut and labelled as The Back Of His Mind. 

The hunt wasn't spectacular, but Arthur grinned to himself as he went to pick up the dead rabbit. The arrow had gone straight through the eye, right into the brain, a quick and painless death for the creature; he hadn't lost his touch at all. Bringing them back to Merlin, he always felt a _tiny_ bit like a proud dog showing its master the worthless trophies he'd brought back. Merlin didn't pat him on the head, but his grin showed that he was happy for Arthur as he took over, skinning the two rabbits and plucking the peasant. Heavens only knew how he had never managed to cut himself all these years. 

Later, as they lay close together in their bedroll, Merlin opened his eyes suddenly as a drumming noise started. "What's that?" He asked sleepily.

Arthur struggled to figure out what he meant. "Wha-? That's just the rain, nothing to worry about." Not that there was ever anything to worry about in the camps that Merlin looked after, of course.

Sitting up in the bedroll, Merlin grinned down at Arthur. Arthur merely shivered, and pouted at him. "It's rain, Arthur! Come on!"

Before the words 'are you absolutely crazy?!' could formulate on Arthur's lips, he had been dragged out into the cold by Merlin, the both of them just in their night shirts and underwear.

"We used to do this as kids," Merlin said gleefully, "but it's just not the same when you're in the castle courtyard." The rain pelted the both of them, fat warm droplets that trickled down Arthur's skin and tickled him a bit. Arthur's look clearly told Merlin that he didn't have enough things to do as a kid. Merlin giggled a bit, and spun around on his bare foot, squelching into the mud. "Come on; don't tell me you've never danced in the rain before."

"I've never danced in the rain before." Arthur said, deadpan, hugging himself and still staring as Merlin started to wave his arms, head tipped back and catching rain all over his face. 

"C'mon," Merlin insisted, shaking out his hair and spraying Arthur with droplets as he grabbed Arthur's hand. "Dance!" He flailed his arms some more, with Arthur's arm in his hand, and Arthur felt just a little bit foolish. It wasn't that he didn't want to join Merlin, his little bundle of exuberance and joy, but that he didn't know how to. He didn't know how to just relax and fling his limbs every which way with no music and get himself wet and cold and dirty deliberately.

Merlin seemed to sense this, because he smooshed himself right against Arthur, his wet shirt sticking to his skin and then sticking to Arthur's. Pressing a long, deep kiss onto his love, Merlin curled his tongue between Arthur's lips, drawing a reaction from Arthur. Before Arthur could reciprocate though, Merlin was gone, leaving Arthur's chest all cold again. "Catch me if you can!" giggled Merlin - _giggled!_ \- before tramping away through the undergrowth like an errant child.

Arthur felt a grin tugging at the corners of his reluctant mouth... and took chase.

It felt like long magical moments to Arthur as they spun through the trees, getting progressively more soaked. His fingers and toes were numb from the cold but his entire body felt warm. Mud caked his feet, squishing between his toes, and right up his legs. His shirt clung to him in wet desperation. And he was _happy_. Merlin's laughter in the last of the evening's sunlight trailed back towards him through the trees and Arthur knew that once, he would have felt separate from that laughter, like he didn't understand it, or deserve it; now he knew that he was a part of it. He felt his own laughter reply when Merlin got caught in a bush or doubled around to press another wet kiss to his lips before running off again.

Merlin held his hand as they climbed over logs, and jumped into horrifically large puddles. Merlin grinned at him as they whirled around, trying to figure out which way was the way back to the camp but not really too bothered. Merlin cuddled under his arm as they trudged back to the campfire, long since died, shivering but blissfully so. 

Arthur drew his hand through Merlin's wet hair, dislodging more water droplets. "I hope you have a plan to get clean," he said, physically exhausted but spiritually refreshed. 

"I don't need a plan," Merlin rolled his eyes, stepping into the tent; mud caked off his slim legs as he did so, rearranging itself into a neat pile just by the flap. Arthur tried it too, and gazed with a pleased expression at his clean legs. Merlin was so terribly useful sometimes. 

As they stripped off their wet clothes and bundled each other into their bedroll, still shivering a bit and sharing body heat, Arthur drew Merlin close, savouring the cool skin with just a sheen of sweat over it beneath his palms, and entwined their legs. He drew out long kisses on Merlin's lips and strove to make that pleased, content expression Merlin had sometimes settle onto his face. 

Yes, he supposed, it was going to be all right.


End file.
